


body language

by knightswatch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Getting Together, Grinding, Lapdance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6330619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It'll be fun, just relax,” is all Kunimi gives him as an answer, tugging the hoodie off his head and blinking, brushing his hair back from his face. “I won't if you don't want me to.”</p><p>Yuutarou doesn't have an answer to that, since he <i>does</i> want Kunimi to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	body language

Yuutarou did not think that he'd end up working in a strip club in college. But—apparently the fact that Yahaba ran the bar a few nights a week meant he could put in a good word for Yuutarou on a job that was 'pretty easy'.

Now he's in the very back of the room, with a black shirt and bright white letters spelling out ' **SECURITY** ' printed across his chest. He's _supposed_ to be looking intimidating, and he's doing his best to glare at the end of the stage, but he also knows that Iwaizumi _and_ Kyoutani are working and he's not half as terrifying as either of them.

The night is almost over, anyway. There's only a handful of dancers who work this late, and the last song is less a mad clamor for attention from patrons. The bar is still full, at least for the moment, and Yuutarou is wondering if he should duck into the back and check to see if anyone is looking for an escort out to their car.

Except, Kunimi is on the stage, with a pair of boots that stretch all the way to his thighs and reflect back the spinning colors of the lights overhead, and as much as Yuutarou tries not to, his eyes keep darting over to him—it's not the way that Kunimi _dances_ that captivates him, really. It's the bored pout that sticks on his face, the way the light makes shadows on his cheekbones, the hair falling into his face—even if he weren't tugging his clothes off and spinning around a pole, Yuutarou would still have a crush on him.

Kunimi's back turns to the crowd, arms over his head to grip the pole, back arching in a pronounced curve, and just for a second, he catches Yuutarou looking at him and his lips twitch upwards. He grips his hands tighter around the pole, lifting one leg than the other into the air, body curving until he folds nearly in half to wrap his knees around the metal instead, locking them together before releasing his hands and dropping so he's hanging upside down, spinning, facing the crowd again with his hands roaming over his own skin.

Okay, so the _dancing_ thing doesn't really help with his crush at all.

He's forced to look away, attention dragged off by the sound of shouting from the direction of the bar. It's not entirely _surprising_ to look up and see Kyoutani shoving someone into the top of the bar and shouting at them, especially with Yahaba two feet away looking startled and annoyed. He nudges his way off the wall with a little sigh, elbowing his way through the already thinning crowd, bumping his fist on the back of Kyoutani's shoulder to get his attention.

“What happened?” He asks, leaning back just slightly when Kyoutani whips his head around to glare in response, refusing to release the man that he has pinned under his hand despite the futile tugging on his wrist in an attempt to get free. Yahaba seems to recover after a moment, speaking sharply before Kyoutani answers.

“Just throw him out,” he says it like the whole situation has him bored, and Kyoutani looks back at him with his brow furrowed intensely together. They spend a tense moment glaring at each other, refusing to back down, and Yuutarou sighs softly, patting Kyoutani's arm.

“I'll take care of it,” he doesn't try to pry Kyoutani's hand back, instead, he waits for Kyoutani to decide to let go and then tugs the man up, giving him a shove toward the door and shaking his head. “I'd recommend not repeating whatever you said to Yahaba-san.”

“You'd think someone working _here_ wouldn't be so fucking uptight. All I asked was how much it would be to see his cute ass do a little dance,” he spits, and Yuutarou shakes his head because that's _exactly_ the thing he means not to repeat. Still, there's a surprising lack of physical resistance to being ejected, despite the guy's continued frustrated cursing in Yuutarou's direction. 

He shoves the guy out the door with a shake of his head, frowning when he turns around like he wants to size Yuutarou up for a fight. “Please don't come back here again.”

And that's that. He shoves the door shut again with his shoulder and turns around in time to watch Kunimi striding off the stage. The last song of the evening starts playing on the speakers overhead and Yuutarou ducks into the back area, grabbing his jacket from the hook it's hanging on.

Living only a few blocks down, Yuutarou generally just walks to work, but his more pressing concern at the end of his shift is making sure no one gets harassed on the way out to their car. He waits an extra few minutes before tapping his knuckles on the door of the changing room, heat already creeping into the skin at the back of his neck when he hears Kunimi on the other side of the door. “I'm decent.”

Decent, in Kunimi's estimation, is apparently being settled into a seat to tug the boots off his legs with a loose shirt on. He has his hair tucked behind one ear, and there's still the sparkle of makeup on his cheeks. Yuutaroru hopes he's not blushing as much as he thinks he might be. Kunimi looks up at him before lifting his leg up and raising both eyebrows. “Help me out of these.”

“S- sure,” he nudges the door shut behind him with his foot, swallowing as he leans over and takes the shoe in his hands, pulling the zipper down before sliding it off his leg with a smooth tug, leaving his fingers wrapped around the smooth skin of Kunimi's ankle. He hesitates a moment before setting it down gently. He reaches for the other before Kunimi picks his legs up, hands sliding down the leather covering his calf. He's almost too distracted by the feeling of Kunimi's muscles flexing under his hands to notice the way he's being stared at.

Kunimi has his head tilted just slightly to the side, expression as flat as ever—but there's a spark in his eyes that Yuutarou only catches for a second before he slides the other boot off as well, setting it to the side. His thumb brushes the bones of Kunimi's ankle before he sets his leg down once again, quirking a smile that feels a little shaky on his face.

“Mmm, that's better,” he hums, flexing his feet before standing, stretching his arms over his head and sliding jeans on as well. Yuutarou feels… slightly strange watching him get dressed when he's become so used to the reverse. Still, he waits patiently while Kunimi gathers his bag and jacket, glancing around the otherwise empty room.

“Did everyone else go home?” He asks, slightly surprised. Kunimi nods, rolling his shoulders after one final stretch, hair fallen in his face once again. Yuutarou's fingers itch to tuck it behind his ear and he jams them into his pockets instead.

“Yeah. Iwaizumi got dragged off by Oikawa and Suga's boyfriend came and got him,” Kunimi shrugs, his lips twitching upwards. “I'm betting Yahaba's gonna finish cleaning up the bar _after_ Kyoutani is done with him.”

Yuutarou wrinkles his nose at the thought, scratching the back of his head. Kunimi nods after another glance around, stepping out the door ahead of Yuutarou. “I'm ready.”

“O- okay,” he almost stumbles after himself in his haste to follow, flicking the light off before the door closes behind them. 

The back lot is empty except for Kunimi's car sitting there, sparkling under the streetlights with water from a recent rain. Yuutarou keeps close to Kunimi as he walks, glancing over his shoulder to be sure there isn't anyone lurking around the lot. It's happened before, with overeager 'fans' looking for a chance to catch him alone. Kunimi glances up at him, eyebrows raised. “Was someone _really_ asking Yahaba for a dance?”

“With Kyoutani-san _right there_ ,” Yuutarou sighs, shaking his head a little. Kunimi snickers at that.

“Well he's _definitely_ done it for Kyoutani,” he sounds entertained and Yuutarou finds himself blushing again as they reach the car. Kunimi surveys it for a moment before a smirk catches on his face. It's small but hard to miss nonetheless. “Have you _not_ gotten one? How long have you been working here?”

“S- six months,” he volunteers shyly, digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek. Kunimi tilts his head slightly, keys dangling from the tip of his finger. There's still dark makeup around his eyes, making them stand out against his pale skin.

“Huh,” Kunimi huffs out a soft breath, soft and curious before he turns and unlocks the door to his car, a small smile still on his face. “Guess you'll have to get someone to fix that for you.”

“I- I guess,” he mumbles awkwardly, watching Kunimi slide into the car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat. He has to remind himself not to linger on that image as he turns to walk home, frowning and hugging his jacket tighter around his shoulders.

* * * 

And really, he never expects the conversation to come up again—there's no reason for it to, of course. Kunimi's probably used to people having crushes on him, and there's no way he hasn't pegged Yuutarou's' for exactly what it is.

Even if it's not for the reasons he'd expect. 

He's surprised to find Kunimi leaning with his elbows on the bar after his shift ends—changed from the outfit he was wearing on the stage into a loose hoodie and jeans, leaning forward to listen to whatever it is Yahaba is saying to him. 

There's just over an hour left in his shift, and he can't spend the whole time staring at Kunimi, as much as he would like to. He steps in the way of someone trying to put their hands all over Kenma and manages _not_ to get punched in the face for it, which actually sets a new record for 'most consecutive shifts without getting hit' at four.

More surprising still is the fact that Kunimi is _still_ hanging around when he finishes, hopping off the stool that he's been occupying and following Yuutarou through to the back, tucking his hands into his pocket. Yuutarou doesn't ask why he decided to stay so long after his shift, or why _this_ was the moment that he decided he should go home.

There's no point in getting his hopes up over nothing.

Still, Kunimi lingers while Yuutarou grabs his jacket—a slightly heavier one, it's started snowing lately—and ducks out the back door with him, and they have the same sort of conversation they always do while leaving. Since it isn't closing yet, there are a few other cars in the back lot outside of Kunimi's and it makes Yuutarou tense more than usual.

And then Kunimi's car refuses to start.

After maybe a dozen tries, he groans and thuds his head against the steering wheel, squeezing his eyes shut. “ _Shit._ ”

“Ah—maybe you should call one of your roommates?” He knows Kunimi lives with two other people, he's heard them discussed sometimes, but Kunimi sighs and shakes his head.

“I'd rather not have to explain. They think I wait tables,” he sighs, lifting his head up, staring at the ceiling.

Yuutarou rubs at the back of his head, shifts his weight a little awkwardly. “Y- you can stay the night at my place if you want.”

Kunimi turns to stare at him, and Yuutarou realizes that he's an _idiot_.

“J- just because it's nearby! Or we can go there and you can call your roommates! W- whatever you want,” he's tempted to run away but Kunimi's gaze pins him to the spot. After a moment, though, Kunimi nods and slides out of the car, shutting the door and locking it once more.

“That sounds good. I'll call someone to look at it in the morning,” he tucks his keys back into his pocket, giving Yuutarou an expectant look until he starts walking.

Most of the short, cold walk back to his apartment is fairly quiet. Yuutarou can't think of anything to say that doesn't sound entirely idiotic, and Kunimi seems content to walk quietly next to him, puffing warm clouds of breath into the air.

He's glad that his tiny studio apartment is clean at least because having Kunimi step through the door is more nerve-wracking than he thought it would be. The bed is mostly made and the couch isn't covered in dirty clothes, and Kunimi steps out of his shoes with a little hum. “I didn't think you lived by yourself.”

“O- oh. Yeah, I do,” he's standing awkwardly in his own doorway, and for a moment Kunimi stares at him before simply striding into the area that marks Yuutarou's kitchen and dragging back one of his chairs, pulling his phone out to do _something_ with it, glancing up when Yuutarou doesn't move.

“Sit,” it's nothing less than a command, and Yuutarou sheds his jacket before complying, blinking up at Kunimi when music starts playing from his phone.

“W- what are you doing, Kunimi-kun?” He asks, turning to watch Kunimi set the phone on the low table, blinking as he recognizes the song as one from the club, mouth going dry. “W- wait, you're not—”

“It'll be fun, just relax,” is all Kunimi gives him as an answer, tugging the hoodie off his head and blinking, brushing his hair back from his face. “I won't if you don't want me to.”

Yuutarou doesn't have an answer to that since he _does_ want Kunimi to. Kunimi gives him one of those tiny smirks before his hips start to move.

He doesn't expect it to effect him so much, since really, he's used to seeing Kunimi work—but, the atmosphere is entirely different. They're alone in Yuutarou's apartment, and Kunimi is doing this because he _wants_ to, for whatever reason. Yuutarou nearly jumps out of his skin when Kunimi's hands rest on his shoulders, earning him a soft laugh. “Relax.”

His mouth is dry, and Kunimi slowly lifts his shirt to reveal the smooth skin of his stomach and Yuutarou has never wanted to touch something so badly in his whole life. It's not just the enticing way that Kunimi rolls his hips, making his whole body undulate with the motion, it's not just the slow reveal of more and more skin that Yuutarou can't pull his eyes off of, or the way he looks like his skin would probably be the softest thing Yuutarou _ever_ touches.

It's _everything_ , coupled with the way Kunimi's hands move from his shoulders to slide up his neck and into his hair, giving it a sharp tug and yanking Yuutarou's head back, leaning forward to chase after him, lips pressing the outside of his ear. His voice is barely above his breath when he speaks, and Yuutarou is already desperately gripping his fists on top of his thighs. “ _Yuutarou_ , I want you to do what I tell you, okay?”

He feels, for a moment, like he's disconnected from his body. The motion of nodding in response makes Kunimi's fingers tighten in his hair and instead of giving an actual answer in words, Yuutarou rattles a groan in response, digging his nails into his thighs as he clenches his hands in his lap. It seems to be the answer that Kunimi wants, though, because next to Yuutarou's ear his mouth curves into a grin, teeth digging into the shell of his ear. “Good.”

Yuutarou has to stifle another whine in response, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. Kunimi leans back, fingers sliding through Yuutarou's hair until they come free, pulling his shirt over his head after. There's grace in the way he does it, which, if Yuutarou were more in possession of his mind, wouldn't really be surprising, but in the moment it catches his attention more than it should, the way the discarded fabric flutters out of his fingers and lands on the ground in a crumpled heap. It's hard to pay attention to all the ways his body manages to move, especially when Kunimi shifts forward so he's actually seated all the way in Yuutarou's lap.

Without meaning to, Yuutarou flinches back slightly from the contact, dropping his hands to hang uselessly at his sides. He tilts his head to meet Kunimi's stare, sure that he's blushing worse than he ever has in his life. Kunimi blinks at him once, the same small smirk on his face, resting his forearms on Yuutarou's shoulders and rolling his hips forward once. Yuutarou tenses like he's been shocked, breath shaking out of his lungs and leaving him struggling to draw in another to follow it. His hands ball into fists until he can feel the crescent shaped indents left by his nails. There's something pleased and wicked glittering in Kunimi's eyes, likely a product of how obviously hard Yuutarou is in his jeans.

It's starting to seem like he's overdressed for the occasion—still fully dressed in his uniform from work and breathing so hard that his chest is practically heaving. Kunimi digs the fingers of one hand into the back of his hair again, the other slipping between them when he leans back to flick the button of his jeans open. When Yuutarou tries to watch the motion the hand in the back of his hair tightens again, tugging his head back to keep him looking up at Kunimi instead.

Really, he wants to touch Kunimi so badly it feels like he's about to explode out of his own skin. It leaves him squirming back against every slow rotation of Kunimi's hips on top of him, back jerking into an arch when the tip of Kunimi's finger traces back up the center of his chest. He seems almost _amused_ by Yuutarou's reactivity, especially when Kunimi leans forward, so close their lips are almost together, hovering a breath away to speak. “You know this isn't _work_ , right?”

Kunimi's voice is soft, but the rare dig of inflection in it is almost venomous. He drops both hands, tracing the slack lines of Yuutarou's arms, pressing the two of them together chest-to-chest before Kunimi's fingers wrap around his wrists and lift his hands to rest on the bare skin at the small of his back, just above the waist of his jeans. Yuutarou's hands slide up his back without his brain actually commanding them to, feeling each individual bump of his spine and the stretch of his skin between his shoulder blades, up to the soft hairs at the base of his neck. His thumb brushes over them gently, and they're so close that Yuutarou can _taste_ the soft, pleased sigh that Kunimi lets out. He tries to speak then has to clip his mouth shut and clear his throat to keep his voice from coming out sounding so strangled. “K- Kunimi-kun?”

He gets a shake of Kunimi's head in return, eyebrows settling close together for a moment while he rolls his hips forward, pressing down into Yuutarou's lap more, back arching into the slow stroke of Yuutarou's hands like a contented cat. “Akira.”

Yuutarou whines from somewhere in the back of his throat, reedy and desperate, digging his fingers harder into Kunimi's back. Kunimi reaches, grabbing one of Yuutarou's hands and sliding it down cup around his ass instead. “Say it.”

“A- Akira,” it sounds steadier than his attempt at speaking before, at least, and Kunimi leans forward and seals their mouths together before Yuutarou has tasted the last syllable of his name. Kunimi's fingers slide into his hair once again, holding his head there like he thinks Yuutarou is somehow going to pull away. He squeezes his hand around Kunimi's ass again instead, opening his mouth easily and letting Kunimi lick his way into his mouth.

Without meaning to, Yuutarou finds himself rolling his hips forward in return. The music that Kunimi put on originally is little more than a forgotten memory at this point, and he uses his grip to guide Kunimi's hips in grinding against his, catching the tiny sounds that Kunimi whimpers against his mouth and swallowing them down as well. Kunimi draws back slowly, biting Yuutarou's lower lip as he does. He stares at Yuutarou with half-lidded eyes in a way that makes his stomach twist with heat, pushing his hips down with purpose and a soft groan, ducking his head to rest it against Yuutarou's shoulder—one hand gripping the back of his hair still and the other clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

Yuutarou turns his head to kiss the exposed skin of Kunimi's shoulder, watching shivers crawl down his spine. Kunimi forces his hips still with a little, frustrated sound, lifting his head and digging at the bottom of Yuutarou's shirt with a shake of his head. “You're wearing too much.”

“S- sorry,” he mumbles out of reflex, feeling his cheeks heat up when Kunimi chuckles. He pulls the shirt up over his head in an effort to hide it. Still, it's exactly what Kunimi wants it seems, and he lifts his hips up to shove his jeans down them and kick them off to the floor. Yuutarou starts to do the same until he glances down and catches sight of the purple panties Kunimi is wearing instead of something more… regular. His brain stutters out of time, grinding to a halt and making him gape uselessly at the lace trimmed fabric. There's a shiver attached to Kunimi's inhale, but when Yuutarou finally manages to look up at Kunimi's face, there's a slight smirk in the upward tilt of his lips.

Yuutarou's gaze drops again to the darker wet smear on the front and he presses his thumb into it, grinning just slightly at the way Kunimi gasps and jerks forward slightly into the pressure. He swallows, pressing his palm into the bulge Kunimi's cock makes against the soft fabric, kissing the side of his neck when he grinds forward. His hand starts to slide inside the underwear when Kunimi shakes his head, head tilting back slightly with another groan. “Wait—I want…”

He shifts, sliding his own hand between them and jerking Yuutarou's jeans open, impatience quivering down to the tips of his fingers. Kunimi barely wastes time on pushing them down his thighs alongside his already stained boxers, pushing the panties down until his own cock springs free. Kunimi kisses him again, guiding Yuutarou's hand to wrap around both of them, Kunimi's hand squeezing over the top of it and controlling the slow pace that Yuutarou strokes them together.

Kunimi guides the pace with a slowness that's almost agonizing. Yuutarou finds himself squirming and groaning against the kisses that are peppered against his mouth, nipping at Kunimi's lower lip and shivering when he groans. He rolls his thumb over the head of Kunimi's cock, gathering and spreading the slick fluid already dripping down his shaft.

His back arches when Kunimi twists both their hands, hips jerking upward, stroking out of time with Kunimi's guidance, breath stuttering staccato as he comes, muscles tensing as he paints a sticky mess on his own chest, head lolling back between his shoulders. Kunimi gasps and Yuutarou strokes his back, lifting his head to watch Kunimi come apart in his other hand with a hunger he shouldn't be able to feel so immediately after orgasm.

There's a breathy, relieved sound when Kunimi comes, tied to the faltering notes of 'Yuutarou' in his voice, leaving Yuutarou's stomach a smeared mess as he grinds his hips forward to ride his orgasm out.

Kunimi pitches forward with a slight whine when he finishes, eyes fluttering shut, nuzzling into Yuutarou's fingers when they tuck his hair behind his ear. “You have to carry me to bed now.”

Yuutarou finds himself flushing, gathering Kunimi into his arms and standing a little awkwardly with the extra weight, red staining his cheeks as Kunimi's arms wind around his neck. “W- was that, um, j- just…”

“Are you trying to ask me out?” Kunimi doesn't even bother opening his eyes, and his face is nuzzled into Yuutarou's neck at an angle that makes it impossible to see the rest of his expression. Helplessly, Yuutarou nods before setting Kunimi down on his bed. Kunimi looks up at him with a smile. “Good. I want you to.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'll be in the trash over at [ tumblr dot com ](knightswatch.tumblr.com)


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